Chapter 24
LOGAN
I hoped the music would drown out my frustration.
I sat on the edge of the couch, guitar resting on my knee, fingers running over the strings in a mindless pattern. I tried to write, to play, to channel the chaos inside me into something productive. But every strum of the guitar felt hollow, every lyric forced.
I exhaled sharply, scrubbing a hand down my face. This wasn’t working.
Nothing about this situation worked.
Except Elizabeth.
The knock at the door had me up and moving before I could think twice. And the second I opened it, the second I saw Elizabeth standing there, I felt it. That stupid, unshakable rush of happiness I had no business feeling.
She looked perfect. Effortlessly put together, even after what had to be a long day of dealing with my disaster of a fake engagement. Her hair was a little messy from the wind outside, and she smelled faintly like flowers.
“Hey,” she said, stepping inside.
“Hey,” I murmured, watching her as she dropped her bag on the table.
She was wearing that determined look, the one that meant she was about to tell me something I wouldn’t like, but she was going to make it sound logical anyway.
“I’m going to be Sophie’s maid of honor.”
My jaw tensed. “What?”
“For the wedding,” she clarified, like I needed the reminder of the ridiculous circus my life had become. “It makes sense, Logan. It keeps me close, keeps me in control of the narrative.”
I let out a dry, humorless laugh. “Right. Because nothing says, ‘this makes sense’ like having my real girlfriend plan my fake wedding.”
Silence.
I felt it before I saw it—the way her whole body went still, the way her lips parted slightly in surprise.
Girlfriend.
We’d never put labels on it.
I swallowed, suddenly unsure. “I mean—”
“Say it again,” she interrupted softly, stepping closer.
I looked up at her, my heartbeat hammering. “You’re my girlfriend,” I said, firmer this time, testing the weight of it, letting the truth of it settle between us.
Her lips curled, just slightly, like she was trying to contain a smile. “I’ve never been someone’s secret girlfriend before.”
I stood and huffed out a quiet laugh, tugging her closer until there was barely an inch between us. “Yeah, well… I’ve never had a girlfriend before.”
Elizabeth’s eyebrows lifted, her lips curving in surprise. “Never?”
I shrugged, standing before her, my fingers instinctively finding the curve of her waist. “I mean, I’ve had relationships. Or whatever people called them. But not really.” I hesitated, the words thick in my throat. “I’ve never—”
I didn’t know how to say what I meant.
Because I’d had women in my life. Plenty of them. Beautiful women. Famous women. The kind of women who looked perfect beside me in photographs, who whispered empty promises in dark hotel rooms, who wanted the fantasy of Logan Richards but not the man underneath.
And for a long time, I thought that was all I needed, that it was easier that way. Simple, fleeting, never complicated. But none of the relationships ever felt real.
Elizabeth was real. She saw me in a way that made my chest ache.
From the very beginning, she had challenged me, called me out, refused to let me coast on charm or reputation.
She wasn’t dazzled by the lights or the headlines.
She wasn’t impressed by the things I’d used to keep people at a distance.
And somehow, that only made me want her more.
Elizabeth’s lips parted slightly, and for a second, she just looked at me, searching. Like she was seeing something in me I hadn’t even realized was there.
Then, quietly, she said, “I’ve never done this before either.”
I frowned. “What do you mean?”
Her fingers toyed with the hem of my shirt, a nervous habit. “I mean… I’ve never felt this way before.”
Something inside me shifted at her words, a warmth spreading through my chest, curling around my ribs. I’d spent years keeping people at arm’s length, convincing myself I didn’t need more than temporary, surface-level connections. That I was better off that way.
But with Elizabeth, I wasn’t guarded. I wasn’t pretending.
I was just hers.
I swallowed hard, tilting my forehead against hers. “That’s kind of a big deal.”
She let out a soft, breathy laugh, her fingers drifting to the back of my neck, playing with the short hairs there. “Yeah. It is.”
I turned my head, brushing a slow kiss against her temple. “Guess we’re both in uncharted territory, then.”
She nodded, pressing closer, her warmth grounding me in a way I didn’t even realize I needed.
But then, just as easily as we’d fallen into something raw and honest, she shifted. Her body straightened, her fingers untangling from the back of my neck, and suddenly, the business side of Elizabeth was back in control.
“We have an iron-clad contract with Sophie,” she said, stepping away just enough to pace in front of me.
“Six months, Logan. That’s all. By then, your album will be out, Sophie will be deep into shooting the movie, and we have every excuse lined up for why you two won’t be seen together much after the wedding.
You’re so busy with the album, she’s on location, the honeymoon is delayed—it all tracks. ”
I sat on the couch and watched her. She was already in motion, running through the details like this was just another job. Another campaign to execute.
And heaven help me, I loved her for it.
I loved that she was brilliant. That she was focused and relentless and utterly unaware of how beautiful she was when she was working through a problem.
I loved her mind as much as I loved her body. I loved the way she stayed so determined, even when her goal was breaking me a little bit.
She kept talking, lips moving with precision, mapping out our next steps, but I wasn’t hearing a word of it.
Because all I could think about was how much I wanted her.
Not just for stolen moments. Not just in secret.
I wanted this.
Every part of her.
She turned back to me, hands on her hips. “It’s airtight, Logan. The public will eat it up. By the time we stage the breakup, no one will question it.”
I didn’t answer right away. I just watched her, letting the weight of what she was saying settle between us.
Finally, I let out a humorless laugh. “You’ve thought of everything, haven’t you?”
Her expression softened, just for a moment. “That’s my job.”
I exhaled slowly, dragging a hand down my face. “Yeah. And I hate that you have to do it.”
Something flickered in her gaze, but before I could name it, she sat down beside me, resting a hand on my knee. “We’ll get through this, Logan. You and me. Together.”
I swallowed hard, staring at her, knowing she meant it.
Before I could second-guess it, before I could let myself think too much about what came next, I kissed her.
She gasped softly against my mouth, but she didn’t hesitate. Didn’t pull away. Her fingers curled into my shirt, holding on like she needed me as much as I needed her. I deepened the kiss just slightly, memorizing the feel of her, the warmth of her, the way she melted into me despite everything.
I didn’t know how long we stood like that.
All I knew was that when we finally broke apart, her forehead rested against mine, our breaths uneven, and the world didn’t feel so heavy anymore.
I wanted to believe her. I wanted to believe that we could get through this, that six months would pass, and we’d be free to be together.
But what if we weren’t? What if the lines blurred too much?
What if the world believed in this fake marriage so much that there was no space left for our real relationship?
Then I shook off the thought, pushing it away because right now, in this moment, she was here.
And that was all that mattered.